The Little Book of Feminist Saints

In many homes, tucked away on a shelf, there is a small, worn book. It might be a book of prayers, a collection of meditations, or a guide to the lives of saints. Its pages are thin, the cover softened from use. It is a book of reference, a book you turn to in a moment of quiet crisis, when a specific kind of strength is needed—the patience of one figure, the courage of another, the resilience of a third. These books offer a pantheon of figures to emulate, a spiritual toolkit for navigating the complexities of being human. For centuries, these figures have largely been men, their stories told and retold, their virtues canonized.

But what of the women whose lives were just as formidable, whose struggles were just as profound, but whose stories were never bound in gold leaf? What happens when you need a patron saint of righteous anger? Or of unapologetic ambition? This was the question that lingered for novelist Julia Pierpont. She found herself searching for models of female strength, defiance, and creativity—figures who could serve as guides for the modern world. Finding no single book that collected these lives, she decided to create one herself. Pierpont, a celebrated author known for her keen observations of human relationships, began compiling her own personal canon. She gathered the stories of women from history—artists, activists, scientists, and rebels—and wrote their biographies as vibrant, intimate portraits, creating a new kind of book of saints for a new generation.

Module 1: Claiming Space in a World That Denies It

The first major theme is about creating and claiming space. It’s a core challenge for anyone trying to innovate or lead. The world is full of gatekeepers and established structures. The women in this book didn't wait for an invitation. They built their own rooms.

A powerful starting point is Virginia Woolf. She famously articulated a critical need for women. She said they need financial independence and literal space to create. A room of their own. This came from her own experience. She was barred from university libraries and lawns simply for being a woman. So here's the first insight: You must secure your own resources and physical space to do your best work. Woolf’s idea shows that creative and intellectual freedom is grounded in tangible assets. A budget you control. An office with a door that closes. A team that reports to you. Without this foundation, you remain dependent on the gatekeepers.

But what if you can’t even get a room? What if the system is designed to keep you out entirely? This leads us to the story of Artemisia Gentileschi. She was a brilliant painter in 17th-century Italy. After a traumatic rape and a public trial that humiliated her, she was married off and sent away. Her career could have ended there. Instead, she moved to Florence. She built a new life and a new career from scratch. She painted powerful, often vengeful women from history and myth. In her most famous work, she painted her attacker's face on the man being beheaded by Judith. When denied a narrative, use your craft to reclaim it. Gentileschi used her art as a weapon and a testimony. She created a new story for herself where she was the hero. For us, this means our work—our code, our designs, our strategy—can be the most powerful response to being underestimated or wronged.

This idea of claiming space can become even more radical. Sometimes, changing the system from within isn't enough. You have to be willing to break it. Kanno Sugako was a Japanese writer and activist in the early 20th century. She started by writing radical critiques of women’s status as property. But she grew frustrated with the slow pace of change. She eventually joined a plot to assassinate the Emperor. She decided that only a shocking, violent act could shake the foundations of an oppressive system. Her path shows a stark escalation. It also reveals a crucial lesson. Assess when incremental change is insufficient and a system reset is required. Sugako's story is extreme, but the principle applies to business. It’s the logic behind disruptive innovation. You create Uber. You build a new platform that makes the old one obsolete.

Module 2: Turning Personal Adversity into Public Advocacy

The second module explores a recurring pattern in the book. Many of these women transformed personal trauma into a powerful engine for public good. Their private pain became their public purpose.

Let's begin with Oprah Winfrey. Her story is well-known, but Pierpont focuses on a specific, pivotal moment. In 1991, Oprah paused her top-rated talk show. She went to Washington D.C. to testify before the U.S. Senate. She spoke as a survivor of childhood sexual abuse. Her raw, personal testimony was the driving force behind the National Child Protection Act. It created a national database of convicted child abusers. The law is still known today as the "Oprah Bill." This gives us a profound insight. Your most painful experiences can become your most powerful platform for change. Oprah leveraged her vulnerability. She turned a source of personal shame into a national call to action. In a professional context, this means our biggest failures or struggles can give us unique authority and empathy. The founder who almost went bankrupt is the best person to advise other startups on financial discipline.

Building on that idea, we see how this transformation can also happen through art. We return to Artemisia Gentileschi. Her rape and the subsequent trial were deeply traumatic. She made it the central theme of her art. Her paintings of powerful women exacting revenge were a form of psychological and public justice. She channeled her rage and trauma into her work, creating masterpieces that still resonate today. This reveals that creative output can be a powerful tool to process trauma and achieve symbolic justice. For professionals, this doesn't have to be painting. It can be writing a book, designing a product that solves a problem you faced, or building a company culture that corrects an injustice you experienced elsewhere. The medium is flexible. The principle is about transforming negative energy into constructive creation.

And it doesn't stop there. Even smaller slights can be fuel. Consider Michelle Obama. Before she attended Princeton, a high school counselor told her she wasn't "Princeton material." It was a moment of doubt, a small cut. But she remembered her internal response: "I'm just as smart." She carried that memory with her. As First Lady, she became a fierce advocate for education. She constantly urged young people to believe in themselves, to know that "I can do this." You can weaponize the memory of being underestimated to fuel your advocacy for others. The chip on your shoulder can be a power source. It can make you a more passionate mentor, a more determined leader, and a more empathetic colleague. You can use the memory of someone doubting you to ensure you never make someone else feel that way.